•AN OBLIVIOUS ONE•

ISLAM🤍

Three weeks had passed since my conversation with Farid's mother. Despite my best efforts to bridge the gap between us, our home still felt like a place where two strangers merely coexisted under the same roof. Farid's demeanor remained aloof, often bordering on harshness.

I couldn't help but feel frustrated and disheartened by the situation. Every day, I tried to engage with him-offering a smile, attempting small talk-but his responses were either insulting, dismissive, or nonexistent. It left me feeling idle and isolated within these walls.

One sunny afternoon, I realized I couldn't continue like this. I was tired of the silence, the tension, and the feeling of being confined in what was supposed to be my home. I longed for something more meaningful, a connection with my husband.

Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I ventured downstairs, knowing that Farid was most likely in the kitchen at this hour. As luck would have it, I found him there, pouring a glass of water.

My heart raced as I approached him, my voice trembling but determined. "Farid," I began, "there's something I'd like to talk to you about."

He turned to look at me, his expression as stoic as ever. "Speak," he said curtly.

I took a moment to steady myself before continuing. "Mama told me about my admission... and she said I should ask you about the progress."

Farid remained silent for what felt like an eternity, his eyes fixed on me. I couldn't read his expression, and the tension in my chest only grew.

Finally, he spoke, his voice calm and measured, "Poor fool, that's what brought you here in the first place. Meet me in the living room at 4:30!" He ordered, the disgust in his tone unmistakable.

My heart was full of gratitude despite his harsh words. I rushed back to my room, my mind racing with possibilities and excitement. This could be the beginning of a new chapter, something that might finally relieve some of my worries.

I went to pray, asking Almighty Allah that everything would turn out positive for me.

Hours later, after finishing my ASR prayer, I made my way downstairs, anxiously waiting for Farid. I knew all too well the consequences of being late. I hadn't even waited five minutes when Farid emerged from his room, dressed in a white t-shirt and green sweatpants, looking undeniably handsome. My eyes couldn't help but linger on the brown envelope in his left hand, but I kept my curiosity in check.

As he approached, I greeted him warmly with a soft "Ina wuni." But as usual, he didn't acknowledge my greeting. Instead, he walked straight to the couch and took a seat, commanding me to join him. Confused, I stood there, unsure of his intentions.

"I'm sure you aren't deaf," he remarked, and it was then I understood. Reluctantly, I made my way to the farthest seat from him and sat down.

I couldn't decipher what was going through his mind or what he was about to say. All I wanted was for him to hand over my admission letter. He cleared his throat and finally made eye contact with me.

"I'm sure I've outlined the house rules for you since the day you arrived," he began, more as a statement than a question. I nodded in agreement, my heart pounding in my chest.

"I don't recall inviting a mime artist into my home," he remarked sharply, and I quickly realized he wanted verbal responses, not just nods. "Yes," I responded, my voice steady.

"Good," he continued, "now I'm going to establish some rules for you as you embark on your so-called education." He air-quoted the word "education," leaving me puzzled. Did he doubt my intentions?

As if reading my thoughts, he added, "I can see you're wondering if I have doubts or something. To be honest, I don't care. Just make sure you don't tarnish my image or reputation. Stay out of trouble, and if you find yourself in any, don't expect me to come to your rescue. And never- not even by accident-mention anything that happens in this house. I'm sure I've emphasized this before: what goes on here stays here. Do you understand me?"